


Capture This Voice

by idoltina



Series: Run on Fumes [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, Other, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>[Blaine]'s not sure what they are, exactly. Friends seems to be stretching the truth because they've only just started spending time together and he's not even sure Quinn really likes him all that much. She's only asked him to sing with her.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capture This Voice

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings (if any):** Language, mentions of sex

**Monday**

“Okay,” Mr. Schuester calls out, fighting to gain control of the group. “New number for you guys. I'm not sure if we'll use it at Sectionals but I want us to fold it into our repertoire anyway.” Blaine takes a copy of the sheet music and passes the stack to Kurt. He glances down and smiles at the selection, desire bubbling beneath his skin. He might just have to audition for this one. “Finn,” Mr. Schuester says, and Blaine looks up, sees their choir instructor pointing at the tall boy sitting in front of him. “Rachel, why don't you guys try this one out?”

Kurt scoffs quietly beside him and Blaine turns to look at him; he can see his boyfriend's muscles, taut and stiff and folded together. Blaine's brow furrows, and something inside him breaks. “Mr. Schuester?” Kurt rolls his eyes a little and Blaine knows it's because he hasn't used the teacher's shortened name. “I'd actually like to audition for this number.”

Kurt turns to look at him and Blaine tries hard not to stare back into Kurt's wide eyes. He remembers snippets of conversations he and Kurt have had ( _I'm the only one who's ever really tried to take solos from Rachel; Mercedes, once or twice, maybe_ ) and meets Mr. Schuester's gaze. “Oh,” the man says, his voice dropping a little. “Um, Blaine, we don't normally --”

“I know,” Blaine cuts in, and he feels rude, insubordinate for interrupting their teacher like this, but he feels like this point needs to be made. “I know you normally assign the solos but you _have_ had people audition before. Kurt's told me.”

“Are you referring to the Jesse St. James disaster right before Nationals last year?” Santana asks in a bored voice, inspecting her fingernails. “Because that was a disaster right, Mr. Schue?”

There's a quiet murmur of assent across the room as their teacher nods, but Blaine's not ready to give up. “Before Nationals, though,” Blaine reminds them. “When you guys went to Sectionals your first year, didn't Miss Pillsbury let Mercedes audition for a solo?” Mercedes casts him an appreciative smile and Kurt is practically beaming at him; encouraged, he presses on. “And you've had diva-offs. I mean, _Defying Gravity_ \--” To his surprise, both Kurt and Rachel blush and look away from him. It's quiet for a minute and Blaine sighs, frustrated. “It doesn't have to be like that,” he clarifies. “I just want the chance -- I just want to audition. If you still think Finn's a better fit after, that's fine.”

Mr. Schuester gives him a long, hard look before nodding. “Okay,” he says at last. “You can audition for it. But,” he adds, addressing the rest of the group, “I have to open it to everyone who might want it. That's fair.” Blaine fights the urge to snort, because, really? Mr. Schuester is the last person who should be giving lessons on what's fair. Kurt does it for him, though, but is spared a lecture when the bell rings.

He waits for Kurt at his locker, shuffling through the sheet music, when a voice startles him. “Hi.”

Blaine looks up and is startled to find Quinn standing in front of him, smiling brightly. “Hi,” he says hesitantly. He's not sure what Quinn wants; she's closer to Kurt than she is to him, though that's not saying much. They've hardly spoken more than a few polite sentences to each other and they've never been paired together as dance partners in glee club. “Are you looking for Kurt? Because he'll probably be here in a few minutes, if you wanted to wait --”

“No,” Quinn says, and her tone is so bright and cheerful that Blaine thinks he could develop cavities just listening to her. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“Um, okay,” Blaine responds slowly, running a hand through his hair. “What can I help you with?”

“Glee club,” she responds automatically. “You're auditioning for that duet.”

“Yeah,” Blaine nods. “I am.”

Quinn leans forward, her fingers reaching out to trace the neckline of his shirt, but she seems to think better of it and pulls back quickly. “I was wondering if you wanted to do it with me.”

“You want to audition?” Blaine asks, surprised. “You want me to do the duet with you?”

“Yeah,” Quinn says, shrugging her shoulders. “I think we'd probably sound pretty good together, don't you?”

“I --” Blaine pauses. “I didn't think you'd want the solo,” he admits. “Kurt never mentioned --”

“I wouldn't, normally,” Quinn bites out through gritted teeth. “Rachel can have them most of the time, I don't care.”

“Why are you in glee club?” Blaine asks unabashedly. Quinn purses her lips and clutches her binder to her chest. “Sorry,” Blaine offers, backpedaling. “I shouldn't have --”

“No,” Quinn cuts him off, shifting her gaze to the locker next to him. “I originally joined to keep an eye on Finn because of Rachel and to help Coach Sylvester bring it down from the inside.” Blaine's eyes scan her face; he's familiar with this part of the story. Kurt's told him all about Quinn's time as a mole. “But I love music and singing and...” Her voice quiets. “They were there for me.” Blaine doesn't have to ask her to clarify; he knows what she's referring to.

Quinn's still a mystery to him, and Blaine has so many questions but he doesn't feel right asking any of them. “Normally I'd say yes,” Blaine starts, and Quinn's shoulders sag. Blaine reaches out a hand but resists touching her shoulder. “You have a lovely voice, Quinn, you do. I'd love to duet with you, but...” He focuses his gaze on the door of his locker and Quinn's eyes follow, falling to the framed picture hanging there. Quinn's face softens and Blaine does reach out to lay a hand on her shoulder now. “I really, _really_ want to do this duet with Kurt,” Blaine says softly.

Quinn nods and offers him a small smile. “I understand. Maybe another time.”

She moves to walk past him when a thought occurs to Blaine. “Hey,” he calls out, turning around. “Why me? Why not one of the other guys?” Quinn's face pales and falls flat. Blaine runs through the rest of the guys, searching frantically for a suggestion. And then it occurs to Blaine: Finn, Puck, and Sam are all her exes. Mike can't sing. Kurt's a countertenor and Blaine's just turned her down -- “Artie,” Blaine says quickly. “Why not Artie?”

Quinn shakes her head slowly. “I don't think he's interested in this solo. Not really his thing. Plus, we're not really...” Somehow, Blaine doesn't need her to finish the thought: _we're not really friends._ It occurs to Blaine that he must be as much of a question mark to her as she is to him, but it strikes him as odd that she's stayed in glee club this long, appreciates the fact that they support her when no one else does, but...

“Penny for your thoughts?” Blaine blinks and Quinn's gone; he turns around to find Kurt smiling bemusedly at him.

“Does Quinn-” Kurt arches his eyebrows. “Does Quinn have any friends? You know, like, _real_ friends?”

Kurt tilts his head to the side, surveying Blaine. “I'm not sure,” he answers. “She's got us, but --”

“Not the same,” Blaine finishes, nodding. “Not what I meant.”

“I know,” Kurt says, reaching out to rub Blaine's arm. “What's eating at you? Why the sudden interest in Quinn?”

Blaine closes his locker door and leans against it. “She just asked me to duet with her.”

“For glee club?” Kurt seems as surprised by the request as Blaine was. “And you turned her down?” Blaine nods. “Why?”

Blaine smiles softly and reaches out, fingers brushing against Kurt's hand. “I want to sing with you.”

Kurt flushes and fights back a smile, a reaction Blaine's come to recognize and know extremely well; it's the same face he made when Blaine first confessed his feelings, the same hitch in his breathing after Blaine first kissed him, the same warmth in his eyes when Blaine first said _I love you_. “I thought, maybe, because of the song-”

Blaine laces their fingers together tentatively. Kurt looks down at their hands. “I know how much you love that song,” Blaine says quietly.

“We'd sound amazing,” Kurt quips, and yeah, they would, Blaine knows that. “You didn't have to turn her down.”

“I'll sing something else with her,” Blaine promises. “Another song, another time. It doesn't even have to be an assignment.” He squeezes Kurt's hand. “Walk me to class?”

Kurt glances around the crowded hallway and Blaine senses his hesitancy, understands it completely. He moves to tug his hand out of Kurt's grasp, but Kurt clenches down, keeping hold of him. “I'd love to.” Kurt holds his hand as they walk down the hallway and Blaine's heart is threatening to burst, but Kurt's made him nervous. It's still Blaine's first week at McKinley and he's not sure he has much faith in the Bully Whips. He still expects a slushie facial every time he turns a corner and he half expects to hear a jock's voice, Karofsky's friend -- Azimio, Blaine thinks -- call out and confront them about the blatant PDA. And yeah, they get a couple of stares as Kurt ushers Blaine to the history classroom in the next corridor, but other than that, nothing. “Indifferent,” he hears Kurt murmur, and Blaine tries not to let himself hope. They stop outside of the classroom door. “Are we still on for Breadstix tonight?”

Blaine smiles. “Of course. Maybe we can start practicing.”

“Practicing,” Kurt parrots, raising his eyebrows.

“I'm being serious,” Blaine laughs, blushing.

“So am I,” Kurt says, his voice dropping an octave. Blaine swallows thickly and shakes his head, eyes lingering on Kurt once more before he enters the classroom.

*****

“So wait,” Kurt says as their waitress takes their empty plates that night, Blaine thanking her as she does. “Why did Quinn ask you? Why didn't she --”

“Ask someone else?” Blaine completes. Kurt nods. “I asked her that, but then I realized she doesn't really have many options. I said no, you're a countertenor, Mike can't sing --”

“And three of the other guys are her exes.” Kurt's head is tilted thoughtfully. “There's Artie.”

“She said he probably wouldn't be interested,” Blaine shares, “that they weren't really... friends.”

Kurt nods his head slightly. “Probably true,” he concedes, pulling out his wallet. Blaine starts to protest but Kurt holds up a hand. “I asked you out tonight, I'll pay. When you suggest going out, you can pay.” Blaine smiles and Kurt lets out a breath rather haphazardly. “You don't know what that does to me,” Kurt breathes. “The way you look at me sometimes...” Blaine's heart skips a couple of beats and Kurt rises from the booth. “I'm going to the little boy's room. I'll meet you at the front door?” Blaine nods. Kurt's fingers run up his arm as he walks by, causing Blaine to close his eyes and shiver.

After Blaine's managed to collect himself, he makes his way to the front door to wait for Kurt and spots Quinn alone at a table in the corner. His heart drops a little and he makes a detour over to her. “Hey Quinn.”

She looks up from her menu, surprised but she doesn't seem affronted by Blaine's presence. “Blaine, hi. Are you here with Kurt?”

Blaine nods. “We were just leaving, actually. I just -- I wanted to apologize, for earlier.”

Quinn smiles brightly. “It's okay. I actually found someone to sing with, so you've got more competition.”

“You -- you did?” Blaine asked, confused.

Quinn nods. “We're actually meeting here to start talking about rehearsing.”

Blaine blinks. “Oh, okay, that's -- yeah. That's great. I'm glad you found someone to work with.” Blaine's brain works furiously to figure out her game, but Kurt's arm links through his elbow and pulls him out to the car. Quinn waves genially at them as they leave. “She found someone else,” Blaine says immediately once they're in the car.

“To sing with?” Kurt clarifies.

Blaine nods. “I -- I can't see her singing with Artie. She seemed really uncomfortable with the idea.” He shifts uncomfortably. “And Mike's out --”

Kurt's eyes narrow. “So one of her exes,” Kurt says, and Blaine's glad he's caught on. “She wouldn't go near Puck, not with Lauren around.”

“So Finn or Sam,” Blaine finishes tentatively.

Kurt sucks in a breath. “Do you think she's doing it with the intention of trying to get one of them back?”

“I... don't know,” Blaine answers honestly.

Kurt is quiet. “I don't think it's Sam,” he says slowly. “They're friends, but --” He pauses. “I think Quinn respects Mercedes too much to do that. They --” Kurt squirms uncomfortably, and Blaine reaches over to take his hand. “She lived with Mercedes during her last trimester. Mercedes was there when Beth was born. I just -- I don't think it's Sam.”

Blaine nods. “So Finn, then.”

Kurt sighs. “I hope not. I can't handle another repeat of the last two years. Finn's my brother, I love Rachel, and I understand that Quinn might not be able to let go of her first love, but I can't handle round three of their drama.”

Blaine rubs his shoulder. “Try not to stress out over it,” he suggests. “Finn's doing the duet with Rachel. I can't see him agreeing to do it with Quinn as well.”

“Maybe she's lying?” Kurt postulates. “Putting on a face so you don't feel bad about turning her down?”

“Maybe,” Blaine says, squeezing Kurt's shoulder. “You okay?”

Kurt nods, turning to meet Blaine's gaze, and there's that smile again. “We can start rehearsing tomorrow,” he says, moving his hand to Blaine's thigh. “I have a feeling we're not going to get much practicing done in your car sitting in my driveway. Not for glee club, anyway.”

And sure enough, when Blaine puts the car in park in the Hudson-Hummel driveway, Kurt's lips latch onto his, and though a fair amount of practicing goes on, duets and Quinn and glee club are the furthest things from their minds.

*****

**Thursday**

Blaine forgets about Quinn for the next three days. He and Kurt rehearse -- and practice -- and come Thursday, he feels like their chances of getting selected for the duet are pretty good. Mr. Schuester calls Finn and Rachel to the front of the room first. Finn starts to sing, and Blaine's eyes widen a little. Finn actually sounds kind of... good. He and Rachel must have practiced, must have really worked to stretch Finn's range. Kurt smiles next to him though, and Blaine realizes that as glad as Kurt is to have a chance at this, he doesn't necessarily need it. Finn's vibrato comes out steady and controlled, and Kurt nods encouragingly. Rachel sounds flawless, as always, and Blaine starts to understand why they're always paired together as leads; they _do_ harmonize well.

There's a smattering of applause when they finish, and Mr. Schuester looks pleased. “Great job, you guys. Kurt? Blaine? You guys are up.”

Blaine pushes himself out of his chair and turns to face Kurt, offering his hand. Kurt smiles and takes it, letting Blaine pull him to his feet. Brad starts to play the piano, and Blaine opens his mouth to sing. “ _Never knew I could feel like this, like I've never seen the sky before._ ” Kurt smiles coyly and saunters between the band members, and Blaine can't take his eyes off of him. “ _Want to vanish inside your kiss. Every day I love you more and more._ ” Kurt bites his lip behind the resident bassist and Blaine smiles, moving towards him. “ _Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing, telling me to give you everything?_ ” There are mere inches between them now and Blaine reaches out a hand as he closes the verse, but Kurt skips past him and drags his fingers across the top of the piano.

“ _Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_ ,” Kurt sings, and Blaine beams. “ _Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_.”

Blaine's voice joins his and together they raise their voices in concert. “ _Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste._ ”

“ _It all revolves around you_ ,” Kurt solos, and Blaine bounces on the balls of his feet, itching for Kurt to close the space between them.

“ _And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide_.” Kurt finally closes the space between them, joining Blaine in the center of the room. They move into the chorus and their voices have never sounded better together, Blaine's convinced of that. “ _Come what may. Come what may. I will love you until my dying day._ ”

Kurt stares at him, breathless and smiling and holding his hand, and seems oblivious to the applause around him. Blaine meets his gaze and offers him a warm smile before turning his attention to their teacher. Mr. Schuester doesn't say anything for a minute, and there's something in his eyes that Blaine can't quite pinpoint. “That was... just stunning, really, you guys.” Kurt beams and Blaine squeezes his hand. “Thank you for that.”

Blaine pulls Kurt back to their chairs by the hand and Kurt scoots his chair closer, nestling his head onto Blaine's shoulder. “Thanks for that,” he whispers. “It was nice.”

Blaine grins down at him. “Anytime.”

“Okay, last one,” Mr. Schuester says, his voice regaining volume. “Quinn, you said you were interested. You wanna come up?”

Quinn smiles shyly and nods, smoothing out her skirt as she makes her way to the front of the room. Blaine holds his breath and cards his fingers through Kurt's hair, his eyes shifting to Finn. But Finn doesn't move from Rachel's side, so Blaine, a little jarred, shifts his gaze to Sam. But Sam's fingers are laced with Mercedes', and before Blaine can look around the room to his next guess -- Puck -- his eyes follow a spinning motion to the center of the room --

“ _Artie_?” Kurt breathes incredulously against him. Blaine raises his eyebrows and looks to Quinn, but her eyes are trained on her duet partner. Brad starts to play again, and the third pair tackles the _Moulin Rouge_ ballad.

And again, Blaine is... pleasantly surprised. Artie isn't a bad singer, Blaine knows this, but he wouldn't have been Blaine's first pick for the male lead in this song. Artie deviates from form a little, bending some of the notes, playing with the arrangement, but, like a lot of things Artie reinterprets, it kind of works. Quinn starts to sing and it doesn't even matter that she doesn't have the range that Rachel and Kurt have because Blaine was right; she _does_ have a lovely voice and it lends itself as an homage to Kidman's styling without straining to hit the high notes. And suddenly the _brilliance_ of having Quinn sing this song, with Artie of all people, hits Blaine full force and leaves him a little breathless. “ _Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side._ ” Quinn smiles and leans down during the line but pulls back abruptly, and sense starts to emerge for Blaine. Artie smiles good-naturedly in return. “ _Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide._ ”

The song comes to a close again, and Mr. Schuester lets out a breath. “You guys aren't gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Why don't they all do it?” Every face turns to look at Brittany, who shrugs. “Why not?”

“Yeah,” Tina says suddenly, and Brittany flashes a smile at her. “You could split up the verses between each pair and then do the chorus together at the end.”

“That,” Mr. Schuester says slowly, “is actually a really great idea.” Finn and Rachel don't protest; Rachel actually turns around and smiles at Kurt, who takes her hand and squeezes it.

After rehearsal, Blaine spots Quinn's retreating figure in the hallway. “Quinn,” he calls out, jogging to catch up. “Wait up.” She turns and raises her eyebrows expectantly. “You did find someone to sing with.” She nods, a little bemused. “It was really good.”

“Thanks,” she says, offering him a genuine smile.

“My offer still stands, you know.” At her questioning look, Blaine clarifies, “To duet. Not on that number, obviously, but something else, if you wanted to...” Quinn's expression doesn't change, and Blaine runs a hand through his hair nervously. “Nevermind, I just --”

“I'd like that,” she says abruptly. “Maybe pick me up Saturday and we can talk about it at the Lima Bean?”

Her sudden willingness catches Blaine off-guard, but he nods. Quinn smiles politely and spins on her heel; Kurt's hand finds his shoulder. “What's your angle here?”

Blaine cocks his head to the side, and Kurt's chin finds his shoulder. “I just think she needs a friend,” Blaine says.

“And you think she wants to be friends with you?” Kurt pries.

“I -- I don't know,” Blaine answers honestly. “She needs someone. I feel like... There's more to her, you know? Maybe we have something in common.” He turns his head to meet Kurt's eyes. “I just don't want her to feel alone.” A warmth floods Kurt's eyes and he nods against Blaine's shoulder. “You're okay with it, right? I mean, it's just a song for glee club. I don't think you have to worry about her sinking her claws into me. She's not really my type, anyway.”

Kurt laughs. “No, definitely not your type. I'm fine.” Blaine smiles and has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss Kurt right there in the hallway. “Come over after?” he asks. “Tell me all about how awkward it was to rehearse with her.”

“It might not be that bad.” A beat, and then Blaine smirks and adds, “I'll rehearse with her Saturday morning, and then I'll come over and _practice_ with you in the afternoon.” Kurt wiggles his eyebrows, and Blaine laughs, links their hands, and walks toward the science wing.

*****

**Saturday**

Blaine shows up on Quinn's doorstep on Saturday morning and dazzles her mother with a glittering smile. “Hi,” he says brightly, offering his hand. “I'm Blaine Anderson. I go to school with Quinn. We're in New Directions together. You must be Mrs. Fabray.”

There's a crease between her eyebrows as she studies him. “Ms. Hamilton, actually,” she says through a forced smile. “I've been divorced over a year.”

“Oh,” Blaine stammers, faltering, his hand falling. “I -- I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Quinn's mother waves her hand dismissively and turns her head to call up the stairs. “Quinny! There's a boy here to see you.” Blaine shifts his weight from one leg to the other, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Quinn comes down the stairs in a pretty blue sundress a minute later. “You didn't mention you had a date, sweetheart. Are you going to be home for dinner, or --”

Quinn rolls her eyes and pulls a lightweight sweater over her shoulders. “It's not a date, Mom,” she sighs, clearly exasperated.

Mrs. Fabray -- Ms. Hamilton, Blaine corrects himself -- smiles and Blaine fights the urge to laugh. “Oh, no,” he agrees, offering a kind smile. “Not a date. We're just --” Blaine hesitates because, honestly? He's not sure what they are, exactly. Friends seems to be stretching the truth because they've only just started spending time together and he's not even sure Quinn really _likes_ him all that much. She's only asked him to sing with her.

Quinn picks up a small clutch from the side table and stands in the doorway, turning to face her mother. “Well stay out for a while if you like,” Ms. Hamilton offers. “It's okay if you're not back for dinner. Just let me know if you're going to be late --”

Quinn inhales and Blaine can tell she's seriously annoyed because Ms. Hamilton clearly doesn't believe this isn't a date. He glances down at Quinn's fists, clenched in frustration, and realizes that Quinn doesn't want to out him. And really, it's sweet, Blaine thinks. But he's out, and he's proud, and if he just says it, Ms. Hamilton will get off of her back -- “Ms. Hamilton,” Blaine cuts in gently. “This isn't a date. It's -- I'm gay.”

Ms. Hamilton blinks in surprise, and Quinn lets out the breath she's been holding. “Kurt,” Quinn says suddenly, and Blaine almost looks around, thinking he's joined them. “You remember Kurt, Mom?”

Her mother's face scrunches a little as she fights to remember, but after a moment, she nods slowly. Then she looks from her daughter to Blaine, and comprehension seems to dawn on her. “Oh,” she says, obviously flustered. “So they're -- you two are --”

“Dating, yes, Mom,” Quinn finishes.

Blaine smiles. “Kurt's my boyfriend,” he affirms, and he thinks he sees Quinn fight back a smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, well that's -- yes. All right then.” Ms. Hamilton straightens and looks back at her daughter. “So you'll be home for dinner then?” Quinn doesn't even bother speaking, just nods, and drags Blaine by the hand back to his car.

Blaine stumbles on the sidewalk as Quinn pulls him along with force and cranes his head over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Ms. Hamilton,” he calls back to her, waving. “It was nice to meet you!”

Quinn huffs in frustration as they settle into the car, rubbing two fingers over her temple. “What's the matter?” Blaine asks.

“You didn't have to tell her that,” Quinn says, and there's something in her tone Blaine can't quite make out.

“That I'm gay?” Blaine says slowly, his eyes squinting in confusion. “But -- I don't understand. Why?” Quinn stares out the windshield, and Blaine's eyes flicker down to her neck. Her fingers twist and play with a gold chain; a cross dangles from it. “Oh,” Blaine says quietly. “I see.”

Quinn blinks in surprise and turns to look at him. She follows his gaze down to where her fingers play with her necklace and Blaine sees, for the first time, panic on her face. “Oh, no, Blaine, it's not -- I'm not like that,” she assures him. “My mom's a little... old-fashioned. I, I'm religious, Blaine. I do believe in God, but I don't --” She reaches over and lays a hand gently over Blaine's; Blaine sucks in a breath, trying to hide his surprise. “I don't want you to feel like I'm judging you. I don't have a problem with it, really.”

“You don't think it's _wrong_?” he questions, and Blaine knows he sounds a little bitter.

“No,” Quinn insists. Blaine feels her grip his hand a little harder. “Ask Kurt. He'll tell you, I've never had a problem with him being gay. I'm not like that. I'm not like her.”

Blaine recognizes a hint of desperation in her last statement and clarity suddenly floods his senses. Smiling softly, he squeezes gently back. “Why don't we skip the Lima Bean?” he offers. “Maybe we can go back to my house and try and peg down song selection. I've got my guitar there, we can rehearse if we find something we like.” Quinn agrees, and the drive to Blaine's house is spent in a comfortable silence.

In Blaine's room, the quiet continues. Quinn sits perched at Blaine's desk, shuffling through the music library on his laptop; Blaine rests comfortably on his bed, thumb scrolling through his iPod. Every few minutes, Quinn hits play, a song plays for thirty seconds, and they move on. It's twenty minutes before anyone speaks at all. “Blaine, I thought you had plans -- oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company.”

They look up to see Mr. Anderson standing in the doorway to Blaine's bedroom. Blaine sits up a little and Quinn offers his father a polite smile. “We decided to skip the coffee,” Blaine explains, fingers playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

There's an awkward silence before Quinn rises from her chair. “Quinn Fabray,” she introduces, holding a hand out to Blaine's father. Mr. Anderson shakes her hand, smiling. “Blaine's helping me with a project for glee club.”

“Mmm,” Mr. Anderson hums, eyes twinkling. “Will you be staying for dinner?” Quinn shakes her head, and he turns his attention to his son. “So does this mean you've stopped seeing, uh --”

“Kurt,” Blaine snaps, annoyed. Quinn turns to look at him, and Blaine fights to keep his temper. “No, Kurt and I are still dating, Dad. Quinn's here to work on a project, just like she told you. I'm going over to Kurt's when we're finished.”

Mr. Anderson's mouth twists unpleasantly. “All right then,” he says through gritted teeth. He turns his attention back to Quinn. “It was nice to meet you, sweetheart. I hope to see you around here again, sometime.” Quinn nods politely but Blaine notices that her demeanor has grown a lot colder in the last minute or so.

When his father is out of earshot, Quinn turns to him. “Wow,” Quinn breathes out. “Your dad is kind of...” Blaine glances over at her with raised eyebrows. “Awful,” she finishes.

Blaine snorts. “I didn't think he'd be here,” Blaine confesses. “I'm sorry if he made you uncomfortable.”

Quinn laughs. “You met my mother,” she says. “She's like, the queen of making people feel awkward and uncomfortable.”

“How --” Blaine hesitates. “You don't have to answer this. I know it's probably really personal. I'm just curious.”

Quinn studies his face for a moment, and glances back to the doorway. When she moves to turn her gaze back to Blaine, her eyes pass over a framed photograph of him and Kurt on the nightstand, and her body imperceptibly softens. “Go ahead,” she says quietly.

“Your parents kicked you out when they found out you were pregnant,” he says without preamble. Quinn tenses visibly but nods. “And you got shuffled around from Finn's to Puck's to Mercedes' and then -- what? Your mom just showed up and said you could come home?”

Quinn looks down at her hands. “My mom knew,” she answers, and Blaine detects an edge to her voice. “She knew and didn't say anything, and when it was out in the open, my dad told me to get out and she... She didn't say anything. _Anything_.” Blaine pulls his knees up to his chest to apply pressure to the ache there; his parents might not be exactly accepting of his sexuality, but they hadn't kicked him out. “She just showed up at Regionals,” Quinn continues, shrugging. “Said she'd left my dad and she wanted me to come home.”

“After all that time?” Blaine asks incredulously. “Months and months later, after leaving you hanging out to dry, she just turned up and acted like she could make up for that?”

“We're good at that,” Quinn laughs bitterly. “Fabrays do an exquisite job of covering up their feelings and focusing on things that don't matter and avoiding problems.” It's the most honest she's been with Blaine and he recognizes that, lets down a few more defenses, a few more walls. “She wanted me to keep the baby,” Quinn adds, almost as an afterthought.

Blaine bites his lip, debating whether or not to ask his next question. “Why didn't you?” Quinn blinks and looks up at him, confused. “The baby,” he clarifies. “Why didn't you keep the baby?”

Quinn shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head. “Not part of the plan,” she says simply, and Blaine recognizes the dismissal of the subject. “I went home so I could start over,” she continues, answering Blaine's earlier question.

They sit in silence for the longest period yet, and Blaine rests his head against a pillow before breaking it. “Three summers ago, my dad and I rebuilt a car together.” Quinn raises her eyebrows and Blaine holds up a hand. “I know what you're thinking --”

“I didn't know you were into cars,” Quinn says simply. “You like music and football and you read _Vogue_ and now I know that you're into cars. Fun facts about Blaine Anderson,” she teases.

Blaine glances over at her and fights back a bemused smile. “It was fun,” he concedes. “And it was nice to spend time with my dad, but --” Blaine sighs, running a hand over his face. “My dad's attempts at bonding are always a _guy thing_. He's not necessarily trying to find something that I'll like. He opts for what he thinks I _should_ like.”

Quinn shakes her head. “I don't understand. I mean, yeah, he doesn't seem like he's all that comfortable with your sexuality, but if he makes the effort to spend time with you --”

“Think about it,” Blaine cuts in, his temper rising again. “He thought you were my girlfriend earlier.”

“My mom thought the same thing,” Quinn reasons. “What's the diff -- oh.” She falls silent for a minute. “Does -- does he think it's just a phase? Or that you're experimenting?”

“Get my hands dirty, maybe I'll find I like girls after all,” Blaine spits bitterly.

“You're not serious,” Quinn says, and Blaine can hear the disbelief in her voice. Blaine doesn't answer and lolls his head to the side, looking at the picture on his nightstand. “Screw him.” Blaine turns his head to look at her, chest heaving in surprise. “You're his son and this is who you are and if he can't accept that -- screw him.” Blaine lets out a breath, jaw hanging open a little. “You and Kurt, you're --” Quinn stops, thinning her lips. “I see the way you look at him,” she says. “Kurt wears his heart on his sleeve -- not all of the time, but a lot of the time. It's easy to see how he feels about you.” Blaine smiles and tries not to blush. “You're harder to read. But I see the way you look at him and --” She tapers off, and Blaine thinks he sees a wetness shining in her eyes. “People spend their entire lives searching for what you two have. Anyone who looks at that and can't see it for the amazing thing it is can go screw themselves. They're jealous.”

Blaine smiles and nods to the laptop. “Find anything else you like yet?”

Quinn turns and nods, hitting play again. “I thought, maybe this -- it's already a duet, so we wouldn't have to rearrange it. I think it compliments our voices.”

Blaine's ears perk up at the opening notes. “I love this song,” he gushes. “I actually don't even need the sheet music for this. I know how to play it.” Quinn smiles and closes the laptop and Blaine reaches over the bed for his guitar. He spends a few minutes tuning it and Quinn moves to join him, perching herself on the edge of the bed. Blaine plays the opening note, strums once for the key, and glances up at Quinn. She nods in acknowledgment, and Blaine relaxes a little under her smile. “ _But you broke me. Now I can't feel anything. When I love you, it's so untrue. Now I can't even convince myself. When I'm speaking, it's the voice of someone else_.” Blaine swallows thickly, fighting to keep the nerves out of his voice. Oddly enough, he's glad it's Quinn sitting across from him and not Kurt. Kurt can read him like an open book and Blaine is being wildly transparent right now. But Quinn, Quinn doesn't know much about him, can't know how much it hurts for these words to fall from his lips. He can still hide behind the music.

Quinn bites her lip and starts to sing, apprehension etched clearly on her face. “ _Oh what are we doing? We are turning into dust, playing house in the ruins of us_.” She draws in a shaky breath and Blaine's conversation with Kurt runs through his mind: _Quinn might not be able to let go of her first love._ And then a thought strikes Blaine: if he can read Quinn right now, as guarded as she is, then she's probably already picked up on his insecurities, his doubts.

He starts to sing again. “ _Oh it tears me up. I tried to hold on but it hurts too much. I tried to forgive but it's not enough to make it all okay_.” Quinn's eyes flit between Blaine and the nightstand before looking away, and her words come back to him: _People spend their entire lives searching for what you two have. They're jealous._ She's jealous. The realization hits Blaine and he almost fumbles over the chords. “ _You can't play our broken strings. You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel._ ” Blaine turns a little, inclining his head towards her, letting the music go. _She needs someone._ He can't hide behind the music anymore if he wants to be that someone. “ _I can't tell you something that ain't real. Oh the truth hurts, a lie's worse. How can I give any more when I love you a little less than before?_ ”

Quinn closes her eyes on the last lines, her voice pure and harmonious with Blaine's. “ _Let me hold you for the last time. It's the last chance to feel again._ ”

Their voices fade, and Quinn sits across from him, headband on her short hair, hands folded in her lap. She's the picture of pretty and pristine and perfect, but she's so _broken_. Blaine watches as a tear falls down her cheek and something inside him twists. If this were a cheesy romantic comedy, this would be the part where he'd lean over and kiss her. If he weren't with Kurt, if he were a cheater, if he were straight or even bi, he would. But none of those things are true, so Blaine stays on his side of the bed and sets his guitar on the floor. “Quinn?” he says gently, ducking his head to try and meet her eyes.

“Blaine.” She lets out something like a choked sob and turns into him, fingers gripping his lapel. Blaine freezes for a second, unsure what to do. He knows she can feel him stiffen and she starts to pull away; he wraps his arms around her frame. It feels like the right thing to do. It _is_ the right thing to do. This, this thing between them, it isn't attraction. But whatever it is, Blaine's pretty sure it's important; he can't walk away from her now.

He runs his hands up and down her back. “Hey,” he says softly. “It's okay. I'm here. I'm listening.” She cries a little harder and Blaine winces. “You're really not over him, are you?”

Quinn pulls back, still gripping his shirt. “Wh -- what?”

“Finn,” Blaine clarifies, searching her eyes. “You've never really gotten over him.”

Quinn shakes her head. “It's -- no. Yes. No. It's not like that.” She sighs, frustrated, but Blaine's patient, rubs his hands up and down her arms. “It's not Finn. Not Sam. Not any of them. I just --” Her lip trembles and she looks down again. “I'm tired of being a failure,” she whispers.

Blaine's heart _breaks_. “You're not --” he starts, but Quinn shakes her head.

“No, I am,” she sobs, and Blaine hands her the box of tissues from the nightstand. “Didn't you hear all about my secret past life?” she asks, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“About Lucy?” Blaine ventures tentatively. Quinn nods, and Blaine sighs. “Yeah, Kurt told me, but --”

“I _hated_ myself,” Quinn says bluntly. “I told Lauren I made all of those changes because I loved myself and I wanted things to be better. _I_ wanted to be better. And I kept making changes, kept striving to be the best version of myself I could get. And look at me,” she says brokenly. “I got pregnant. I got kicked off of the Cheerios. I lost my boyfriend. And then I gave it all up. I gave up Puck and Beth --” Blaine raises his eyebrows at the use of her daughter's actual name but doesn't interrupt. “I tried to start over. I got back on the Cheerios, I dated Sam. And then I left the Cheerios -- by _choice_ ,” she laughs, looking up at the ceiling. “I cheated on Sam with Finn, I lost the prom queen crown --” Blaine raises his eyebrows coldly and lets go of her. Her eyes grow wide and she backtracks. “I didn't mean -- I know how awful that was for Kurt --” She looks at Blaine helplessly and Blaine closes his eyes, sighing heavily. He lets it go. “I lost Finn to Rachel. Again. I failed. I failed left and right. And I'm just so tired of it.”

He opens his eyes and looks at Quinn's sunken frame. “You don't let anyone in,” he observes.

Quinn's eyes narrow but after a moment, she seems to realize that it's not an accusation. She shakes her head. “It hurts too much. I can't trust anyone anymore.”

“So trust me,” Blaine says simply, taking her hands in his. “I -- look, I'm not pretending I can solve all of your problems. But... I like to think I understand. And I can offer some perspective, an ear, a shoulder.” He indicates his wet shirt.

“Sorry,” Quinn apologizes, biting her lip.

Blaine waves off her concern. “You have to learn to accept yourself, to like yourself. Take it from a gay guy who's questioned his sexuality.” Quinn smiles but refrains from laughing, something Blaine appreciates. “You can't find anyone to stand in your corner until you do that. Do you like who you are?”

“I'm not sure I even know who I am,” Quinn admits quietly.

“Step one, then,” Blaine asserts, and his confidence seems to put Quinn at ease. “It's -- I know how much it hurts, Quinn. I do. But the payoff is worth it. Finding someone who loves you for exactly who you are, everything you choose to be, it's -- it's _amazing_. You think I don't know how lucky I am to have Kurt in my life? I do.”

Quinn's shoulders start to shake and her voice is so quiet that Blaine has to strain to hear her. “I just want someone to love me.” Blaine wraps his arms around her again and she settles comfortably against his chest. “I told Santana and Brittany that in New York. You know what Santana told me to do? Get a haircut.”

Blaine chuckles. “I think she meant well.”

“Probably,” Quinn says. “In her weird, backwards, Santana-esque way.” She pulls away again and reaches down to take Blaine's hands. “Thank you.” There's sincerity in her voice and Blaine smiles a little. “Thank you for being a friend. It means a lot to me.”

Blaine cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what we are?” he teases. Quinn rolls her eyes and swats him on the shoulder but smiles. “Do you want me to take you home?” he offers. “We can practice again on Monday if you like.” Quinn nods, and on the way out of the house, she merely nods curtly in Mr. Anderson's direction. Blaine fights back a grin.

When Kurt opens his front door an hour later, Blaine immediately leans against him. “That bad, huh?” Kurt says sympathetically, arms engulfing Blaine.

“Can we watch _Mamma Mia_?” Blaine mumbles into his shoulder. “Just veg out for the afternoon?”

He feels Kurt nod against his shoulder. “Out of all of the musicals you have to choose from, that's the one you go for? The one with _Dancing Queen_? And Pierce Brosnan, who -- while good-looking for his age -- cannot sing. At all.”

Blaine pulls back and follows Kurt up to his bedroom. “I just need something light and happy,” he clarifies. “If _Dancing Queen_ bothers you, you can pick something else. I'm not that picky right now.”

Kurt turns on the television and walks back over to Blaine, a small smile playing at his lips. “I don't have a problem with _Dancing Queen_ ,” Kurt breathes. “It was our first slow dance.”

Blaine meets Kurt's eyes and flashes back briefly to the Lima Bean: _It was still amazing._ “I love you,” Blaine says fondly, fingers reaching out to trace Kurt's jaw. The face makes an appearance again and Blaine meets Kurt's smile with his own.

He curls up into Kurt's side and lets his boyfriend run his fingers through his hair. The opening bars of _I Have a Dream_ start to play but Kurt claims his attention. “What happened?”

“It was just... exhausting,” Blaine sighs. “Our parents thought we were dating.”

“Oh wow,” Kurt breathes out, laughing. “That's pretty bad.”

“We thought so,” Blaine agrees. “But we bonded over that, weirdly enough.”

“Did you find a song?”

Blaine nods. “It actually sounds really good.” He feels Kurt smile above him. “I was right, though.”

“About?” Kurt presses.

“She needs someone.” Blaine shifts against Kurt's chest a little to look up at him.

“I know,” Kurt says softly. “That's easier said than done, Blaine.”

“But I think... I think I got through to her,” Blaine says, and he can't keep the hope out of his voice.

Kurt smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Blaine affirms, dragging a finger lazily down Kurt's chest. “She's a little jealous, you know.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Quinn Fabray? Jealous? You're joking.” Blaine shakes his head. “What on Earth could she possibly be jealous of?”

“Us,” Blaine says simply. “What we have.” Kurt's breath catches in his chest. “She wants this.”

Kurt softens a little and leans down to capture Blaine's lips in a searing kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against Blaine's lips. _The way that you kiss goodnight, the way that you hold me tight._

*****

**Monday**

On Monday, they find the courage to kiss chastely in the hallway. No one says a word. Blaine settles into Kurt's embrace, his back against Kurt's chest, Kurt's arms wrapped around his waist, and they listen to Mercedes update them on the latest development in her relationship with Sam. At the other end of the hallway, Blaine catches Quinn's eye and they exchange a smile; Kurt's arms tighten around him a little. Quinn turns when Artie wheels up next to her and gestures for her to lean down. She obliges and Blaine watches as Artie whispers into her ear. A blush forms on Quinn's cheeks and she turns to face Artie, eyes wide. He offers her a smile, nodding, before leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. Artie speaks again and Quinn, though visibly flustered, nods and smiles.

Blaine nudges Kurt with his elbow and nods his head toward the unlikely pairing down the hall; Kurt hums happily into his ear. Stars collide, and Blaine watches as Artie takes some of Quinn's books into his lap, picking up her fragments. Blaine pulls out his phone and sends her a quick text -- _now's your chance to start over_. He watches as Quinn reads it when she walks by. She glances up and smiles at him, and as she and Artie pass, Blaine's pretty sure he hears the phrase _dinner at Breadstix_ exchanged between them. He doesn't bother to hide his grin.

Together, they drive to Quinn's house after school. Blaine brings his guitar inside. The house is empty, and Blaine takes a minute to appreciate just how nice the place is now that he's crossed the threshold. “Your house is... gorgeous,” he says, eyes lingering on her vanity.

Quinn laughs. “Have you seen the palace you live in?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, I'm pretty sure the staircase alone qualifies this place as a palace. I mean, look at this vanity,” he says, settling down on the stool. “Practically designed for a princess.” Quinn blushes and Blaine fights the urge to laugh because under ordinary circumstances, this would so be considered flirting. But Blaine is very gay, and he's fairly certain this is one of those moment's he's being obvious about it. He turns to pick up his guitar and something catches his eye. “Is this -- oh my God, is this a tiara?” He looks up at her. “You're not secretly royalty, are you? Not one of those _Princess Diaries_ things? Because if you are and you haven't mentioned it to Kurt, he's going to kill you. You know he wrote a musical about Pippa Middleton this summer?”

Quinn laughs again but it's much more hollow this time, and Blaine notices how nervous she looks. “No, I uh... I got a little obsessive with the prom queen thing.”

“Oh.” Blaine glances down at the glittering tiara in his hand.

“I'm sorry.” Blaine looks up, startled. “I'm sorry if I was insensitive about that on Saturday. I -- being prom queen is a status thing. It's something I'm having a hard time letting go of.”

Blaine sets the tiara down and tilts his head to the side. “Why is that so important to you?”

Quinn purses her lips, and Blaine knows that even though she sobbed into his shirt not two days ago, he's still got a lot of walls to break down. “I have to be somebody, don't I?”

“But --” Blaine hesitates, and Quinn raises her eyebrows. “You're not calling the shots that way. You're -- it's a mold.”

“I worked my ass off to fit that mold,” Quinn says icily.

Blaine shifts on the stool. “I know. But that mold is _breaking_ you.”

Quinn lets out a harsh breath and narrows her eyes. “Let's get something straight here,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “What happened Saturday... It doesn't mean you get to dictate who I am or what I do or what choices I make. Are we clear?”

Blaine considers her for a moment. “Maybe we should pick a different song.”

Quinn looks surprised at the abrupt change in subject. “Maybe,” she agrees, and Blaine recognizes that sugar-coated tone she'd first approached him with. He sighs, trying to figure out his next move, when a door closes downstairs. Quinn's head whips to her door. “She's not supposed to be home for hours,” she seethes quietly. “I'll be back,” she mumbles to Blaine. He hears her footsteps as she trots down the stairs. Blaine picks up his guitar and plays a few chords before giving the session up as a lost cause. He leaves Quinn's room without a backward glance and turns to make his way downstairs.

“No, Blaine's not staying long. I have a date tonight.” Quinn's voice drifts up the stairway.

And Blaine really, _really_ doesn't mean to eavesdrop. He had every intention of going downstairs and saying goodbye to Quinn but now he's kind of frozen on top of the stairs and can't bring himself to move.

“Oh, did Finn --” Blaine can hear the delight in her mother's voice.

“No,” Quinn snaps. “And before you ask, no, Sam doesn't want me back, and neither does Puck. My date is with Artie.” Blaine smiles.

“Which one is he?” Ms. Hamilton asks. “The Asian one?”

“That's Mike,” Quinn corrects, and Blaine can tell she hates having to classify their friends like this. “He's dating Tina. Artie's the one in the wheelchair.”

It's quiet for a moment. “Oh, honey, are you sure -- I mean, even that boy you've been spending time with, the one who thinks he's gay --” Blaine honestly cannot _believe_ what he's hearing right now.

“He is,” Quinn says in a bored voice. “Blaine _is_ gay, Mom.”

“Well he can't be sure of that,” her mother snaps. “I mean he just up and decided to...” Blaine's heart pounds and he's pretty sure he can't breathe. “He chose not to like girls. He probably never really gave them a chance --” Rachel's face flashes in Blaine's mind and he feels sick to his stomach. “Did you even ask him, honey? Maybe he's interested and just too shy to say something. Maybe he thinks you're pretty --”

“Because that's the only reason boys like me, right Mom?” Quinn says, her voice dangerously low, and Blaine actually takes a step backward. “Because I'm pretty? Because I'm thin and blonde and I got a nose job and I used to be a cheerleader?”

There's a moment's hesitation, and Blaine can tell without seeing that Ms. Hamilton is trying to save face. “No, honey, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that maybe you can change his mind --”

“Lost cause,” Quinn says. “I'm not interested in making a gay man my charity case. You, on the other hand, can go to town.” Blaine sucks in a breath. Where does Quinn even get the nerve? “And you know what?” Quinn tacks on, and Blaine can hear the fury in her voice. “You wanna know why Artie asked me out?”

“Well you're too nice to say no, dear --”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Quinn deadpans. “No. Stop. Just -- don't even go there. Artie asked me out because he liked singing with me last week and he wants to get to know me. He doesn't care what sports I'm involved in or if I win prom queen. He didn't ask me out because he thinks I'm pretty. He said I looked _cute_ with glasses.” Blaine's chest floods with affection for Artie.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't go back to that. You haven't worn glasses in years. You'll have to go back to the optometrist and --”

“I'm dating Artie,” Quinn says firmly, and Blaine cheers silently. “Not Finn. Not Sam. Not Puck. Not Blaine. I'm dating Artie because right now, I think he might make me happy. And this is about me, Mom. Not you projecting your fantasies onto me or trying to live vicariously through me --” Blaine's eyes widen; the Quinn he's hearing right now is the complete opposite of the Quinn who'd eviscerated him in the bedroom ten minutes ago.

“Fine,” Ms. Hamilton bites back, and Blaine senses a new tension in the atmosphere. “If you're dating that boy in the wheelchair, then why do you need to spend time with -- with _that_ boy?”

“Blaine,” Quinn says. “He has a name, Mom. Blaine.”

“What does it matter what his name is?” her mother practically hisses. “My point is that it was different with the other one --” It takes Blaine a second to register that she's talking about Kurt. “You only saw him at school most of the time. But this is different. You're inviting him over and he's in our home and --”

Blaine's heart _sinks_. Somehow he manages not to drop his guitar and finally shuffles down the stairs. Both women turn to look at him, but he can't bring himself to meet their eyes. “I --” He swallows, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I guess I should probably go. I -- if you still want to rehearse, just... let me know, I guess.” The fifteen steps to the front door have to be the longest Blaine's ever walked, and when the door finally clicks shut behind him, he stands alone on the front steps. Quinn hasn't followed him.

In his car, Blaine rests his forehead on the steering wheel. He should've known, should've seen this coming. Being friends with Quinn was never going to be easy. There were a thousand good reasons why they shouldn't have even bothered to try, and at the moment, as he drives the roads to Kurt's house, Blaine can't seem to remember any of the reasons that led them to believe it was a good idea, that they could make it work, why it was worth it.

It takes the click of his passenger door to bring him out of his somber solitude. Kurt slides into the passenger seat and ducks his head to try and look at Blaine's face. “You've been sitting in my driveway for the better part of a half hour,” Kurt comments. Blaine doesn't lift his head from the steering wheel. “I thought you were rehearsing with Quinn.”

“Didn't work out,” Blaine mumbles, and oh, if only Kurt knew the real meaning behind that statement. He can feel Kurt's eyes boring into him and Blaine knows that the split second he looks into Kurt's eyes, he's going to lose it. He's been trying to put it off for as long as possible. “I --” He hears Kurt shift closer and finally looks up at his boyfriend. “I think I just made and lost a friend in less than three days,” he chokes out.

And suddenly he's _sobbing_ and falling into Kurt's arms and he can't even bring himself to care about the alarmed look on Kurt's face right now because it all just hurts too fucking much. “Blaine,” Kurt says soothingly, rubbing his hands along Blaine's back. “Blaine, what happened? I thought you said you were getting through to her --”

“I was,” Blaine says into Kurt's shoulder. “She shut me out again. She --” He pulls away to look Kurt in the face properly but Kurt keeps his hands on Blaine's arms. “She's forced herself into this, this...” Blaine struggles for the right words. “She's so defensive,” he sighs, frustrated. Kurt nods. “She assumes everyone's going to label her or stick her into a box or shove her in a corner, and really, she does all of those things to herself, Kurt. Have you ever noticed that?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says quietly. “I have. She --” He hesitates here. “She's not like us, Blaine. She's not like you and me. She doesn't -- it's a lot harder for her to accept herself. She's... She's got a lot of baggage.”

“I don't _care_ ,” Blaine insists. “I know that. I get that. I --” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you remember what it was like when we first met? How we spent so much time together and we found out how much we had in common and it was so nice to have someone else who was gay around, someone who understood?” Kurt nods and smiles a little, and Blaine almost forgets that he's upset with the way Kurt's looking at him. “I -- she gets it.”

Kurt's eyes cloud in confusion and Blaine struggles for the right words because the last thing he wants to be doing right now is hurting Kurt's feelings. “Quinn's not gay,” Kurt says, almost amused.

“Not the gay thing,” Blaine says, waving a hand impatiently. “I -- you're different. What I have with you, it's -- it's everything. It's the gay thing and the you're-my-best-friend-and-I-could-talk-to-you-for-hours thing. It's the I'm-comfortable-enough-around-you-to-be-myself thing. It's the I-can-be-honest-with-you-without-fear-of-losing-you thing. It's the you-make-me-laugh thing. It's the you'll-hold-me-when-I-cry thing. It's the I-get-butterflies-in-my-stomach-when-you-look-at-me thing, and the I-could-spend-hours-kissing-you thing. It's... It's the I-can-see-myself-planning-a-future-with-you thing.” Kurt's flustered by the time Blaine takes a breath to collect his thoughts and Blaine just wants to lean forward and kiss him, so he does.

“Okay,” Kurt says after Blaine breaks the kiss, a little breathless. “So if it's not the gay thing...” He tapers off, and Blaine knows he's mentally repeating everything Blaine's just said and listed. “Then what does Quinn get that I don't?”

“She's in a box,” Blaine says, and he knows he's not going to be able to explain this. “And her mom, her _mom_.” Blaine clenches his fists.

Kurt's eyes narrow. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing to me, nothing's ever to my face, never has been,” Blaine says bitterly. Kurt closes his eyes, and Blaine knows he understands. “I think she's afraid I'll be a bad influence.”

Kurt laughs, and Blaine looks up at him darkly. “Sorry,” Kurt says, fighting to compose himself. “It's just -- you? A bad influence? Seriously? I mean, maybe, if my dad knew what we did in this car...” Kurt blushes, and Blaine offers a faint smile. “Hey,” Kurt says softly, rubbing at Blaine's shoulder. “What did her mom say that's eating you up so badly? Why does she think you're a bad influence? She met you once, she doesn't even know you. What --” Kurt stops abruptly, and after a moment, narrows his eyes. “No,” he says, his voice low. “No way. This is not because you're gay,” Kurt says disbelievingly, his voice trembling.

“At school, it's different, because she can't control what goes on outside of her own circle,” Blaine says, and he's so bitter about it but he's crying again and he doesn't know why it hurts this much. “But in her own home,” Blaine says mockingly, “she calls the shots.”

Kurt's jaw is hanging a little agape and it's a minute before he can say anything at all. “So you're not going back there.”

Blaine laughs. “I think she can sleep safe at night knowing I won't be there to infect her daughter --”

“Don't,” Kurt says viciously, taking Blaine's head in his hands. “Don't do that. Don't stoop to her level. Don't let her do this to you. You are _proud_ of who you are, Blaine. This isn't the first time you've heard ignorance like this, it's not.”

“Not the last, either,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt studies his face. “She's dating Artie, you know.”

Kurt blinks, trying to follow. “What does that have to do with --”

“Her mom wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of her dating a kid in a wheelchair,” Blaine starts to explain. “But even Artie's a better choice than the guy who apparently _chooses_ \--”

“We don't --” Kurt starts to interrupt, and Blaine holds up a hand, nodding.

“I know,” he says, and he's finally managed to stop crying. “I -- do you see the point I'm trying to make here?”

Kurt looks at him thoughtfully for a minute. “Her mom reminds you of your dad,” Kurt says slowly. Blaine knows this isn't safe territory to be in; they hardly ever talk about Blaine's father. Kurt hasn't even met him and Blaine thinks it might be better to keep it that way, to spare Kurt years of therapy. “You need her.” Blaine looks up, his shoulders sagging, and watches as understanding starts to set in on Kurt's features. “You _need_ her. _You_ need _her_ ,” Kurt reasons out loud. “Not the other way around.”

Blaine reaches for Kurt's hand, desperate. “I don't want you to think --”

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head. He doesn't pull away from Blaine's grasp. “I know. She -- she understands. I get it.” Kurt leans over and presses a kiss to the corner of Blaine's lips and Blaine sighs, relieved. “Are you okay to drive?” Blaine nods. “Let's go to the garage,” Kurt offers. “Spend some time with my dad. Take your mind off of this for awhile.”

Blaine's chest swells and he leans forward, resting his forehead against Kurt's. “You're going to make me say _I love you_ so many times that you're going to get tired of hearing it.”

“Never,” Kurt promises, brushing his lips against Blaine's. “Never.”

*****

**Wednesday**

Blaine's avoided Quinn for two days, a stupid thing to do, really, considering how much he actually _wants_ to be her friend. But he also knows that he can't force her, he can't back her into a corner. He's just a bit unsure as to how to go about fixing this. And isn't that just like Blaine, trying to fix problems he didn't create in the first place. In the end, he sends her a short text -- _meet me after school?_ \-- and hopes for the best.

Blaine's selfishly snagged a low swing at the park, dragging his feet through the sand. He scoots himself back and forth for twenty minutes before he feels a presence next to him, but he doesn't look up. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a figure settle into the swing next to him, the structure creaking with the added weight. “What do you want, Blaine?”

Blaine sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Can we just --” He finally deigns to look up and meets Quinn's eyes. “Look, can we just drop the bullshit? Please? Enough with the act. Enough with the walking on eggshells and pretending like we can make this work if we don't talk about anything that actually means something. That's not what I'm looking for, here.”

Quinn's lips pucker slightly and she considers Blaine for a moment. “What do you want, Blaine?” she repeats, but the question takes on an entirely different meaning this time.

“I want to be your friend,” he answers honestly. Quinn raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth to speak but Blaine shakes his head. “No, I don't think you understand. I don't want to be your friend as in you-can-cry-on-my-shoulder-and-tell-me-all-of-your-sordid-secrets. I want more than that.” Quinn blinks in surprise and grips the chains of her swing a little tighter. “I want you to be my friend.”

Quinn's quiet for a minute and Blaine can practically hear her brain whirring beside him, trying to work out exactly what he means. “So... you-cry-on-my-shoulder kind of thing, then.” Blaine bites his lip, and Quinn actually smirks. “Huh. I hadn't considered that.” Blaine shifts his gaze to the ground, and after another moment, Quinn starts to swing. Blaine glances sideways at her, and once she's gained some height, she meets his eyes -- and _smiles_. Blaine breathes a little easier and starts to swing with her. “I'm having a party this weekend,” she says casually after a while. “Well, not a party. Not like Rachel's,” she corrects, and Blaine snorts. “Glee club is coming over to watch musicals. Not terribly exciting but --” Blaine notes the hesitation in her voice. “Come,” she says abruptly. “Bring Kurt. You guys are as welcome as the rest of them.”

Blaine pushes himself as high as he can go before responding. “Will your mom be there?”

Quinn slows down, losing height. “No,” she says quietly. “I promise, she won't show up early this time.”

Blaine slows to a stop beside her and they dangle side by side. “It wasn't just your mom,” he says finally. “You -- you built those walls yourself, you know. You put yourself in that tower.”

“It was too much,” she says quickly, and Blaine can tell she's been rehearsing that line for awhile. “Saturday. It was too much too soon. I --”

“You don't have to apologize,” Blaine says, and he means it.

“It's not that,” Quinn says, and she looks and sounds as frustrated as Blaine feels. “Look, I like you.” Blaine glances over at her and cocks an eyebrow. “Platonically,” she clarifies. “You're a decent guy, and it's not that the rest of them aren't, but you... listen. You get it.” Blaine swallows thickly. “I just...” She sighs and tries to shake her hair out of her face. “I need you to be patient with me, okay? I don't... I don't share that easily.”

And isn't _that_ Blaine's life story. Whereas Kurt is the puzzle piece Blaine finds himself fitting into, Quinn is the piece that is identical to him in every way, every edge, every curve, an accidental duplicate. “Me either,” he says, leaning over to push her bangs out of her eyes. She meets his eyes and smiles faintly, and there it is again, that... _something_ that just hangs in the air between them, not quite tangible.

“Cozy?” They both look up to see Kurt standing over them, blocking the sun. Blaine's smile widens and he pushes himself off of the swing to meet his boyfriend. “Quinn,” Kurt says, nodding in her direction as Blaine hugs him from the side.

Quinn meets Kurt's eyes and Blaine watches as the two silent communicate. Finally, she nods toward the tray in Kurt's hand. “Is one of those for me?” she asks.

Kurt bites back a smile. “Blaine and I usually get coffee after school, but I knew he was coming to meet you, so... I thought I'd bring the coffee to you guys.”

Quinn rises from her swing and takes the proffered coffee, smiling sweetly. “Thanks.”

There's an awkward silence as they stand in the park, paper cups in hand. Kurt is the one to finally break it. “So where are we at, here? Are we sharing our deepest, darkest secrets or are we discussing what a disaster last night's episode of _Project Runway_ was? Because honestly, it was a nightmare.”

Blaine laughs, and Quinn follows suit. “That wasn't a dress,” Quinn quips. “That was a _curtain_. A horrible, rumpled, begonia-patterned _curtain_.” Kurt groans and nods vigorously in agreement, and together, the three of them set off through the park. Kurt takes Blaine's hand, and Quinn hugs them both goodbye when they reach the car.

It's a start.

*****

**Friday**

After the Hummel-Hudson Friday night dinner -- a weekly event to which Blaine has found himself repeatedly invited -- Kurt and Blaine pack themselves into Kurt's car and head to Quinn's. The rest of New Directions is already comfortably settled in, bowls of popcorn and soda cans adorning the coffee table. “I thought Finn would be with you guys,” Quinn says as she leads them into the living room.

“He went to pick up Rachel,” Kurt explains. “Should be here soon.”

Quinn nods and gestures around the room. “Find a spot and get comfortable. Are you hungry?”

Blaine shakes his head. “We just ate. What's in the queue for the night?”

“ _West Side Story_ ,” Tina cuts in, perched on Mike's lap in the recliner in the corner. Blaine glances at the television and hears _gleam in its eye, bright as a rose_! “I requested that first.”

“And then _A Chorus Line_ ,” Sam adds. “Apparently it's a crime that I've never seen it,” he mumbles, blushing down at Mercedes.

“Well that's true,” Kurt says thoughtfully, surveying the room.

“Everyone brought something different,” Quinn explains. “We've got lots of choices.”

“Why do I have a feeling songs from tonight are going to somehow make their way into whatever our assignment is for glee club next week?” Puck chides, and Lauren laughs.

“Is that even a real question, Noah?” Rachel asks, shaking off her coat. Blaine raises his eyebrows but Puck shrugs; Rachel, apparently, is the only one who can get away with calling him that. Artie wheels in and hands Quinn a bottle of water, who takes it and smiles, leaning down to kiss him. Blaine looks away pointedly. “Is everyone here now?”

“Wait,” Blaine says, looking around. “Brittany and Santana, they're missing.”

“Kitchen, I think,” Quinn says, nodding off in the general direction. Blaine detaches himself from Kurt's side as Rachel pulls him into a hug, and hops off in search of their missing party members. _With a click, with a shock_ drifts from the living room into the kitchen as Blaine turns the corner and --

Santana takes a step toward Brittany, hesitates for the space of a second, and then closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. _Catch the moon! One-handed catch!_ Blaine's jaw drops a little and he reacts without thinking. “Oh, I --”

Santana pulls away quickly, turning sharply to face Blaine. She meets his eyes and she looks furious, but there's something else there -- fear, perhaps -- and Blaine raises his hands up in defense. “Everyone's here,” he says awkwardly. “If you wanna, you know, join us.”

Brittany seems unfazed and nods, bounding over to him. “Hi, Blaine Warbler.” Blaine fights back a smile and resists the urge to try and explain to Brittany that the nickname isn't really appropriate anymore since he transferred, but he doesn't have the heart.

Santana remains rooted to the spot, staring at Blaine with narrowed eyes. After a moment, she starts to walk briskly past him, but Blaine grabs her arm. She looks down, surprised, and Blaine loosens his grip a little. “Hey,” he says softly. “I'm not gonna say anything. I -- Kurt and I, we don't believe in outing.” Santana softens a little but still looks skeptical. “Karofsky's still in the closet,” Blaine points out, and that seems to win her over.

“True,” she muses. “Thanks.” She offers him a genuine smile and removes her arm from his grip, following Brittany back into the living room. _It's only just out of reach, down the block, on a beach. Maybe tonight..._ Blaine settles in at the end of one of the couches and Kurt curls up next to him, knees bent and arm wrapped around Blaine's waist. Blaine glances around fondly at Kurt's friends -- his friends, he has to remind himself -- and marvels at how they've all inadvertently paired up like this. And true, there are some extremely unlikely pairings here -- Puck and Lauren, for one, Quinn and Artie, another. And, even though it's not public or official, Brittany and Santana, which is oddly comforting to Blaine. It makes him feel less alone. Kurt snuggles closer as the opening bars of _Tonight_ start to play, and Rachel insists that Tina sing along.

By the time they get to _The Music and the Mirror_ \-- following a giggle-filled reenactment of Mike and Tina's version of _Sing!_ \-- Kurt finally rises from the couch to use the restroom and Blaine takes the opportunity to grab a drink from the kitchen. Kurt sidles up behind him after a moment, settling his chin into Blaine's shoulder. “Are you comfortable?”

Blaine nods. “It doesn't feel like the same place, with you guys here.”

Kurt squeezes him a little tighter. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Blaine turns around in his arms. “For what?” he laughs.

Kurt's quiet for a moment. “Transferring. Joining glee club. Making the effort to be friends with my friends. Coming here tonight.”

“Hey,” Blaine says softly, tilting Kurt's chin up with his fingers. “I like your friends. They're -- they're my friends too. That was true before we even talked about me transferring.” Kurt nods, but Blaine can still sense his discomfort. “Plus, tonight was right up my alley. And my new best friend is hosting -- how could I say no?” he teases. Kurt snorts at the Quinn reference but seems to relax a little. _Throw me a rope to grab onto. Help me to prove that I'm strong._ “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” Blaine breathes, blushing.

“So kiss me,” Kurt says simply, but before Blaine can make a move, Kurt leans into him and his lips are soft against Blaine's, soft and warm and wet. Blaine cups his face and kisses back, barely registering his back colliding with the kitchen counter --

_Crash._

The boys jerk apart, clinging to each others' arms, and whip their heads around to find the source of the noise. There's a broken vase on the floor and a pair of heels next to it; Blaine follows the shoes up to their owner, and pales when his eyes meet Ms. Hamilton's. Her eyes are wide and she seems unable to speak, but words aren't necessary. Blaine can hear what she says without actually having to hear her say it: _Get out._

Grabbing Kurt's hand, Blaine bolts for the front door, leaving the household full of their chattering, laughing, singing friends and hate -- so much _hate_ \-- behind. _Give me a chance to come through. All I ever needed was the music and the mirror, and the chance to dance..._

They clamber into Kurt's car, and Blaine can only manage a few words: “Drive. Just... drive.” Kurt obliges and pulls out of the driveway, down the street and blocks and blocks away, but he only drives for a few minutes before he pulls over and parks. He climbs into the back seat, dragging Blaine with him.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, and his voice sounds far away. “Blaine, look at me.” It takes Kurt's hands on his face to get Blaine to focus properly. He's trembling _terribly_ and he can't breathe properly and if he weren't so fucking terrified right now, he'd probably be crying but he can't even bring himself to do that. “It's okay,” Kurt says quietly, their faces inches apart. “It's okay.”

“No,” Blaine says, and fuck -- he _is_ crying now. “No, it's not. That hate -- God, Kurt, the _hate_ \--”

Kurt runs his thumbs over Blaine's cheeks, refusing to break contact. “Blaine, I know. _I know_.”

“Kurt,” Blaine pleads, and he's so damn earnest right now because he has to make Kurt understand. “It's people like that, people who hate the way she does --” He has to stop and take in a few sharp breaths because god _damn_ , it is hard to breathe right now.

“I know,” Kurt says, breathing against him. “I know what they did to you, Blaine. I haven't forgotten.”

“I don't want that to happen to you.” Blaine surges forward and kisses Kurt, hard, and Kurt whines into his mouth. “I couldn't -- I can't --” Blaine is absolutely incoherent but he can't stop talking because Kurt is listening and it's the only anchor Blaine has to hold onto right now. “And Quinn, Quinn has to live with that every day, every day, Kurt --” He clutches at Kurt's shoulders and Kurt mimics the gesture, holding tight. “I love you,” Blaine insists, and Kurt grabs at him a little more. “Why can't anyone else see that it's just that simple?”

“I don't know,” Kurt admits. “But I'm not going anywhere.” An image flashes in Blaine's mind and he pulls back a little, a breath escaping him. “What?” Kurt prompts.

“Brittany and Santana,” Blaine says slowly, and Kurt cocks an eyebrow. “What... Do you know --”

Kurt ponders for a minute. “It's – I've never been able to figure that one out. There's _something_ there, but neither of them have outright said anything or come out --”

“I think that's Santana,” Blaine says, and he knows it's probably true. “I think she's afraid. I understand why.” Kurt nods, and Blaine knows he understands, because hell, look at what Kurt went through at that school. “I walked in on them, earlier.” Kurt cocks his head to the side and settles into the seat, but Blaine's still too worked up to relax. “Do you think... do you think it would've been different?” he asks tentatively.

“Do I think what would have been different?”

“If... If Quinn's mom had walked in on them instead of us. Do you think it would've been different?”

Kurt considers him for a moment before sighing. “I don't know. I think... She probably would have still been disgusted,” Kurt spits, and Blaine clings to his hand a little tighter. “But it probably wouldn't have been as bad. Quinn spent a lot of time with them; her mom probably knows them fairly well and it's not... After what happened the last time you were there -- that was only Monday, it was probably still fresh.”

Blaine starts to cry again, and Kurt pulls him into his arms. “Do you think this will ever work?” he asks tearfully. “Us being friends?”

“The ball's in her court right now,” Kurt says. “I know it seems that way most of the time, but she's got to figure out how to deal with her mom before you can really try. You guys keep having to start over.”

“It's exhausting,” Blaine says, resting his head against Kurt's shoulder.

“I know,” Kurt soothes. “You've got me. That's all I can give you right now.”

Blaine looks up and, for the first time in awhile, smiles. “I'll take it,” he says, grinning. “I'll take you anytime, anywhere.”

Kurt's mouth twists into a smile and he fails to keep from blushing. “Such a terrible influence,” Kurt teases as he tugs Blaine on top of him. “What would my dad say?”

*****

**Monday**

Quinn hasn't contacted Blaine all weekend, and Blaine -- true to form -- can come up with a million reasons why. He wonders if her mother confronted her about him being there, and all he can think, can hope, is _I hope she didn't get to her_. There's a part of him that senses how strong Quinn is, how individual and proud and obstinate. It's the part of him that remembers her in his car, holding his hand and promising him that she was nothing like her mother. But there's another part of him that knows how desperate Quinn is to be accepted, to be loved. It's the part of her that obsessed over a crown, the part of her that pushed him away. It's the part of him that remembers watching Kurt sob in the hallway after being elected prom queen, and it's the part of him -- the scars on his shoulder and his calf -- that remembers what it's like to be beaten. To be hated. He hopes -- and if he were religious, he'd pray -- that the former part wins out, but he doesn't allow himself to hope too much. _It hurts too much._

Unfortunately, Monday arrives and Blaine knows he can't completely avoid her; their lockers are situated close to each other. What Blaine doesn't expect as he twists in his combination -- _3, 16, 11_ \-- is for Quinn to stand next to him, opening her own locker, and actually speak to him. “Did you have fun Friday night?” There's something almost... playful in her tone and Blaine actually has to turn and stare at her when she speaks again because he doesn't believe it. “Puck saw you guys when he left,” Quinn elaborates, a coy smile playing at her lips. “If you wanted privacy, you could have just used one of the guest rooms. You didn't have to go park the car a couple of blocks away.”

And suddenly Blaine gets it, understands the implication. A breath leaves his chest rather haphazardly. “Kurt and I didn't leave so we could make out in the back of his car,” Blaine says slowly.

Quinn meets his eyes now, and Blaine's heart is sinking, sinking. “Why did you leave then?” she asked, puzzled.

Blaine can't bring himself to look into her eyes for more than a few seconds and he can't breathe again. And before he can stop himself, he spins on his heel and walks down the hall to Kurt's locker. Kurt looks up from his magazine and smiles, but the smile disappears quickly as his gaze shifts beyond Blaine's shoulder. “Why is Quinn Fabray looking at you like you broke her heart?”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut. “She doesn't know.” Kurt shakes his head, confused, and Blaine has to take in a breath before he can say it again. “She doesn't know, about Friday. She thinks we went to make out in your car --”

“And you just... walked away from her? You didn't explain what happened?”

Blaine opens his eyes and finds Kurt's face is patient. He breathes out. “I couldn't. I can't. I just --” And then it dawns on Blaine that he's being a hypocrite. He's doing to Quinn exactly what she did to him: building walls, shutting her out, not letting her get too close because _it hurts too much_. And he loves Kurt a little more now because he knows Kurt realizes this too but isn't berating Blaine or chastising him.

Kurt considers him a moment. “Do you want me to tell her?”

Blaine looks him gratefully. “Would you?”

Kurt nods. “I have econ with her next period. We're just studying for our exam so I'll talk to her then.”

Blaine squeezes him. “I have the best. Boyfriend. Ever.” Kurt blushes a little and pats his cheek clumsily.

At lunch, Blaine slides into their regular table and crosses his fingers that it's just him and Kurt today because honestly? He doesn't think he can handle anyone else right now. There's a _clacking_ sound behind him and he barely has time to look up before Quinn has thrown her arms around him, clutching tightly. “Oh my God, Blaine,” she says quietly, hooking her chin over his shoulder. “I am so, so sorry. I didn't know --”

Kurt quietly takes the seat next to him, surveying Blaine over Quinn's shoulder, and Blaine blinks. Kurt offers him a small smile and Blaine mouths a _thank you_ before bringing his arms up to hug Quinn back. He can feel people staring. When he pulls away, he thinks he hears her sniff a little and has to force himself to meet her eyes. Quinn doesn't pull all the way back, still clutches his arms, and Blaine does the same. “I can't go back there,” he says softly, and her lip trembles. “I'm sorry, but I can't.”

“No, I know --” Quinn's voice breaks a little and Blaine feels _guilty_ and this isn't even his fault, or Quinn's. “Can we try your house again?” she suggests gently. “It doesn't have to be like last time. I just -- we did say we were going to change our song selection.”

Blaine considers her for a moment and, okay, yeah, they _were_ going to change their song (and maybe Blaine had completely forgotten about the duet he'd promised her in the last week) but that decision was made in the heat of the moment when he was pretty sure they weren't going to be friends anymore. Now... “I think that'd be okay,” he offers. “My house should be empty until dinnertime.”

Quinn smiles. “Sounds great.” She rises from the table and turns to walk away but she meets Kurt's eye and smirks before turning to face Blaine. “And this is so not a date, Anderson. Not in your wildest dreams.”

“Nightmares,” Kurt mutters, but Quinn still smiles. Once Quinn is out of earshot, Kurt addresses Blaine. “Did I do good?”

Blaine beams at him and leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You did more than you good. You did amazing. Thank you.” Kurt smiles, picks up his sandwich, and offers half to Blaine.

The afternoon in Blaine's bedroom starts out much like it did the first time, a comfortable silence and occasional song suggestions. Quinn is the one to break it this time. “Kurt's okay with this, right? You and me and --” She tapers off.

_Whatever this is_ , Blaine silently finishes for her. “He's on board,” Blaine assures her.

Quinn smiles shakily at him. “He really loves you, you know. I know I've said it before, but --”

“I know,” Blaine says, unable to fight back the smile playing at his lips. They're quiet for another few minutes before Blaine shifts nervously on the bed. “Can I ask you something? It's... kind of personal.” Quinn looks up at him and Blaine can see the alarm in her face. “Not...” He backtracks, trying to put her at ease. “Not you and me personal. Just... personal in general. I'm not -- this isn't going to be a repeat of Saturday, I promise. You shut me down, I stop asking until you're comfortable.”

Quinn considers him for a moment before Blaine hears her quietly say, “Go ahead.”

“What --” Blaine stops, struggles to figure out the right way to ask, but really, there isn't one. “What's sex with boys like?”

Quinn raises her eyebrows. “I don't think --”

“I know it's different,” Blaine cuts in, and okay, wow, there is no way for this not to be mortifying right now. “I just... What do you remember? What stuck out to you? What do you wish you'd been more prepared for? Those sorts of things.”

Quinn's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “So wait, you and Kurt haven't...”

Blaine mirrors her expression. “No, I -- oh. When Puck told you he saw us Friday, you thought...” He blushes and shakes his head. “No, we haven't. I mean -- I want to,” he admits, and he hates that he can't keep the desire out of his voice. “And I think... I think Kurt wants to. But we're... just shy of being ready, I think.” Blaine groans and lays back on the bed, focusing his gaze on the ceiling.

Quinn's voice is soft and quiet when she finally replies. “You really, _really_ love him, don't you?”

Blaine's gaze subconsciously falls to the frame on the nightstand and a warmth fills his chest. “I'm gonna marry him someday.” And really, Blaine thinks he's known that since he and Kurt started talking about their future, about graduating and going to college in New York and starting a life together there. And he was a little more sure when Kurt came back and Blaine said _I love you_. No, Blaine's known it; that's not the problem. He's thought it and known it, and now he's said it out loud, and even that wouldn't be a problem if he were alone. But he's said it aloud to someone else, to Quinn, and he can't take it back, and the reality of it hits him like a freight train and he sits up, eyes wide, winded. “I --”

But Quinn is smiling at him, grinning as wide as she can without showing any teeth, and there are tears in her eyes and Blaine is really, really glad that he's stuck it out this long because if this is the reaction he gets, she's definitely worth keeping around. He smiles weakly at her. “I don't remember much,” she admits, and it takes Blaine a second to adjust to the abrupt change in subject. “I... may have been a little... intoxicated.”

Blaine cocks an eyebrow. “Wow,” he huffs. “You and I really, really should not drink. Ever. We make terrible choices.”

Quinn laughs, a little hollowly, but keeps talking, and Blaine's grateful. “I'm more ready now, I think,” she muses, almost as if Blaine's not there. “Not because I've done it. But... because of you.”

Blaine blinks. “I'm sorry, what?”

Quinn groans and hides her face in her hands. “I just mean... I wasn't ready, then. But you... You're getting me to open up a little, and that's going to do wonders for me when I decide to be with someone again.”

Blaine bites his lip. “Artie?” he ventures.

Quinn merely shrugs. “Maybe. I like him.” She smiles but doesn't seem to realize she's doing it. “And the great thing is I don't have to figure that out right now. Sex is just as important to him as it is to me. We're not rushing things. I don't have to worry about him pressuring me.” Blaine offers a smile and really, how perfect are those two for each other? “That's what I'd tell you,” she says.

“I'm not sure I follow,” Blaine apologizes.

“Sex is... What I remember of it is warm, mostly,” Quinn says, and Blaine suspects that Quinn being unable to remember sex might have to do with more than just the alcohol. “But you're close, physically, emotionally... I didn't have that. But that's what it's meant to be like. It's _intimate_. Suddenly, someone knows every detail of you and if you're not prepared for that, it's...”

She sucks in a breath but Blaine doesn't need her to continue because he understands. He remembers Kurt telling him about his dad's talk, about how it wasn't logistics at all. _You matter_ , Kurt had told him. _That's what he said to me_. And really, it's essentially the same thing Quinn is telling him now, to not throw himself around, to be sure, to use it as a way to connect to someone. To Kurt. Blaine tilts his head to the side. “You would have been a great mom,” Blaine offers softly. Quinn looks as if she's had the wind knocked out of her. “You still could be, if, you know, you decide that's what you want. Later.”

Quinn's eyes start to water again and she shakes her head. “Too much too soon,” she says, her voice hoarse.

Blaine holds up his hands. “Back to the music then.” Quinn skips to the next song and Blaine lights up. “I. Love this song,” Blaine gushes unabashedly. “Have you heard it?”

Quinn nods and smiles, regaining her composure. “We've done Gaga in glee club before-”

“ _Born This Way_ , I know,” Blaine finishes for her. “With the shirts. I helped Kurt make his.”

She smiles. “We did her the year before too,” she adds. “We found out our competition was rehearsing a Gaga number so we did one to be prepared. None of the guys wanted to do her, though. Except Kurt.”

“I've seen those platforms,” Blaine admits with a grin. “They're still in his closet.”

“That gigantic hoop skirt dress is still in mine,” Quinn confesses, and together they laugh.

Blaine bounds up from the bed and spins on the spot, singing along. “ _I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am._ ”

Quinn laughs and leans forward on the stool, joining in. “ _I just wanna be myself and I want you to know -- I am my hair!_ ”

Blaine leans in, singing close to Quinn's face, and she pulls away, unable to control her giggling. “ _I've had enough. This is my prayer, that I'll die living just as free as my hair._ ”

Quinn pushes herself off of the stool and dances around Blaine to the other side of the room. “ _I've had enough. I'm not a freak. I'm just here trying to stay cool on the streets._ ”

Blaine grins and grabs her hands and together they spin, closing out the chorus. “ _I've had enough and this is my prayer, I swear. I'm as free as my hair. I am my hair._ ” Blaine loosens his grip and Quinn stumbles, half-colliding with his chest. Blaine throws out an arm and Quinn collapses onto his elbow. They both stand there, breathless and laughing, and Blaine looks up --

He pushes Quinn upright and releases her immediately. Mr. Anderson stands in the doorway, smirking. Quinn turns, confused, and then her eyes narrow. “Mr. Anderson,” she says coldly.

“Quinn,” he says brightly, indifferent to her tone. “It's nice to see you again. Will you be staying for dinner this time?”

Quinn shakes her head. “No, I was just leaving, actually.”

“Don't leave on my account --” Mr. Anderson starts.

“No, really. I have a history paper to write,” Quinn says, and Blaine knows that's an outright lie because they just turned in a paper and don't have one due for another two weeks. He doesn't contradict her. “I'll see you at school tomorrow,” she directs at Blaine. “Maybe we can figure out this glee club thing then.”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers without really knowing what he's saying, because honestly, who even gives a damn about the stupid duet at this point?

Quinn brushes past Blaine's father quickly, and Mr. Anderson watches her go for a minute before turning to Blaine, still smirking. “You two looked pretty cozy.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and flops back down onto his bed, absentmindedly grabbing a book from his satchel. “We were dancing,” Blaine points out. “That's all.”

Blaine's father stands staring at him for a moment. “Are you sure that's all?”

Blaine thins his lips, trying to decide how best to answer. “She's got a boyfriend,” he finally says.

“Yet she's spending all this time with you.”

“Dad,” Blaine says flatly. “I'm not interested in her. I'm _gay._ ”

Mr. Anderson makes an impatient noise. “I don't understand you. You say that's what you are but you never really gave girls a chance --”

Blaine's jaw twitches. “Not that it's any of your business,” Blaine hisses, seething, “but I have, actually.”

The surprise is evident on his father's face. “You neglected to mention that.”

“Yeah, well, that's because it was a disaster,” Blaine snorts.

“What was her name?” Blaine looks up from his book, incredulous. His father has never shown the slightest interest in any of Blaine's crushes, in Kurt. “The girl you dated, what was her name?”

Blaine clenches his jaw. “Rachel,” he says through gritted teeth. “We went on one date. End of story.”

Mr. Anderson clicks disapprovingly. “No it's not. Did you kiss her?” Blaine looks away, disbelieving. “It's a simple question, Blaine. Did you kiss her?”

“Twice,” Blaine admits, adopting a smug expression as he turns to face his father again. “Once drunk and once sober, if you're that curious.” Mr. Anderson looks torn between chastising him and cheering. “No sparks sober.”

“Well she just wasn't your type, then --” his father snaps.

“No,” Blaine laughs bitterly, and he has had _enough_. “Rachel definitely wasn't my type, Dad. Neither's Quinn. They're _girls_.” Mr. Anderson's eyes narrow and Blaine mirrors him; they stare at each other in a stony silence until --

“Your son is gay.”

Blaine blinks and his father turns, both caught off guard. Quinn slides into the room and reaches for her purse on Blaine's desk. Drawing in a breath, she turns to face Mr. Anderson. “Your son is gay and he shouldn't have to _prove_ that to anyone, much less to me, or to you.”

Blaine's father straightens. “With all due respect, sweetheart, I don't think this is any of your business.”

Quinn clicks her tongue, and Blaine starts to recognize fury building in her. He stares, fascinated. “With all due respect, Mr. Anderson,” Quinn parrots, adopting her cavity-inducing tone, “I think it became my business when you started assuming that there was something impossibly romantic going on between me and your son.” Mr. Anderson folds his arms across his chest, but Quinn lifts her chin, defiant. “He's your _son_ ,” she points out, and Blaine wants to leap from the bed and _hug_ her. “He's your son and the longer you stick to your guns, the further away you are going to push him. Take it from someone who's got the experience.” She glances back at Blaine, once, and then glides from the room. Mr. Anderson stares at Blaine for a moment before following suit.

Blaine stays perched on his bed, every nerve vibrating. He wants nothing more than to run to Kurt and be _consoled_ right now, but every logical fiber of his being screams against it. There's a difference between talking to Kurt and being with Kurt, and Blaine's emotions are running too high right now for him to do anything but be impulsive. Shaking, he closes his bedroom door, curls up on his bed, and dials.

Kurt answers on the third ring. “Hey,” he greets, his voice bright and chipper. “How'd rehearsal go this time?” And Blaine can't do it, can't bring himself to dump more of his problems onto Kurt because it isn't fair. So he adopts a monotone quality to his voice and runs through a few song ideas he and Quinn had tossed around, talks about dancing to Gaga, about anything but what he actually needs to talk about. He doesn't realize he's been silently crying until he has to sniff, and then he panics because he knows Kurt heard that and he's been caught. “Blaine.” He can hear the alarm and the pity and the yearning in Kurt's voice and he hates it, hates that he's making Kurt feel this way. “Do you want me to come over?” Kurt offers. “Or I can just come and pick you up, if you want --”

“No,” Blaine says quickly, and bits of his earlier conversation with Quinn come back to him. Blaine's a mess, a horrible, ridiculous mess, and he can't do this to Kurt. Listening to Kurt's voice is easier to deal with than being with him, seeing him in the flesh, touching him. Blaine knows that if he sees Kurt right now, he's going to do something incredibly _stupid_ , and with the recent discussion on sex, Blaine refuses to risk it. He won't their first time be tainted and dragged down by something like this. “Just... Can you stay on the phone? I just need to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” Kurt concedes slowly. “Will you at least tell me what happened? I feel helpless here.”

Blaine fights back a laugh as fresh tears spill over his eyes and really, there's nothing funny about it. “Not much to tell. My dad hates that his only son, his only child is gay and he's never going to stop trying to change that.”

“So he showed up while Quinn was there?” Kurt asks, and Blaine knows he's not getting away with brushing this off.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, brushing tears furiously from his cheek. “And then Quinn left and he pulled that whole _are-you-sure-you're-not-dating_ thing again, and _you-never-really-gave-girls-a-chance_ \--” Blaine hears Kurt hiss on the other end and suddenly he can't stop talking. “I told him about Rachel.”

“You did?” comes Kurt's response, and Blaine can hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. And you know what he said? He said she _wasn't my type_ ,” Blaine laughs bitterly.

“He didn't,” Kurt says, and his voice is low and dangerous. Blaine feels a swell of pride for his boyfriend.

“He did,” Blaine assures him. “And I said, _No, she's not. She's a girl._ ”

Kurt gasps a little in Blaine's ear. “Jesus, Blaine.”

“I don't care,” Blaine says immediately. “I'm so sick of this, I'm so done. This is so backwards.” Kurt makes a questioning noise and Blaine explodes a little. “There shouldn't be a safe place for us,” he explains. “We're gay and out of the closet and in _Ohio_ for crying out loud. There shouldn't be a safe place for us to be together, for it to be okay for us to be together. But there is, there are so many places. We can get coffee at the Lima Bean together and dinner at Breadstix. We can hang out at your house or your dad's garage. We could hold hands in the hallway at Dalton, and -- god, I mean, do you know what we've been getting away with at McKinley the last couple of weeks?”

“We're lucky,” Kurt says quietly. “I know. I know how lucky we are.”

“And it's so _backwards_ ,” Blaine rants. “Because Quinn and I can't have _any_ of that. We can't be friends, no one wants us to be friends. Sure, maybe we could go out and get coffee or dinner and it's not that awkward. But I can't go to her house and she can't go to mine. We can't be around each others' families and -- did you see the looks people were giving us when she hugged me in the cafeteria today?” Blaine sighs and stretches his legs. “It's just so _backwards_.”

Kurt's quiet for a minute. “Do you wish it was the other way around?”

“ _No_ ,” Blaine answers immediately, and he can almost _hear_ Kurt's smile through the phone. “I just wish... It's not bad to want to be a little bit normal, is it? To be able to have _friends_ without anyone getting on your case?”

“Of course not,” Kurt reassures him.

There's a soft knock at the door. “Hang on,” he tells Kurt. “Come in,” he calls to the door.

His mother walks in, a small, steaming bowl in her hands. Her eyes are wet and Blaine can see the sadness behind them as she sets the bowl on his nightstand. “Soup in case you're hungry,” she says quietly. Blaine mouths a _thanks_ and his mother's gaze falls to the phone in his hand. “Is that Kurt?” Blaine nods reluctantly, and Mrs. Anderson smiles a little. “Why don't you invite him for dinner tomorrow?” she suggests. “I'd like to meet him.” Blaine raises an eyebrow and glances out into the hallway. “Your father's working late tomorrow night,” she says briskly.

“I'll ask him,” Blaine promises. His mother leans down and plants a kiss on his forehead; Blaine closes his eyes at her touch. As soon as the door closes behind her, he turns his attention back to Kurt. “My mom just invited you to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Really?” Kurt questions, and Blaine can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Really,” Blaine laughs, and maybe he is a little hungry after all. “My dad won't be here,” he adds, hoping to sway Kurt's decision.

“Do you want me to come?” is all Kurt says.

Blaine's heart lifts because really, he has the greatest boyfriend _ever_. “If it's just my mom, yes. She wants to meet you and she's -- she's a lot better about the whole gay thing than my dad.”

“I'm there,” Kurt promises, and Blaine smiles. There's a pause, and then Kurt says, “Oh God, what am I going to _wear_?”

*****

**Tuesday**

Kurt doesn't eat at all the next day and spends three times the normal time in his closet. By the time he says goodbye to Blaine on Skype to change one last time before he runs out the door and heads over, there's a mound of clothes on the bed and the entire bedroom is in disarray. Blaine shakes his head because it's only his mom and Kurt is practically hyperventilating over meeting her, but they've known each other almost a year and been together half that, and Blaine supposes he understands. He'd met Burt and Carole after he and Kurt had known each other for three months, before they'd even started dating. Maybe that's the difference. They aren't just friends now. They're dating. And Kurt's coming over with the mindset that he's being introduced as _the boyfriend_ and -- okay, yeah, Blaine understands his boyfriend's hysteria. He shuffles over to his closet and changes into one of his nicer pairs of slacks -- for Kurt -- and waits.

He's been pacing the foyer for the better part of a half hour when the doorbell finally, blissfully rings. Blaine launches himself at the doorknob before his mom can take two steps out of the kitchen. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees Kurt. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt says nervously, twisting his fingers around themselves. “Do I look okay?” he asks in an undertone.

Blaine glances down, taking in Kurt's outfit and -- okay, _wow_. Blaine recognizes the ensemble, it's close to the same one he wore when he transferred back to McKinley last year, sans the jacket, gloves, and top hat. He's swapped out the Doc Martens for wingtips, but -- Blaine looks at Kurt's hands again and notices the keys that accompany the ensemble dangling from his fingers. “Too much?” Kurt asks quietly. “I wasn't sure about the keys --”

Blaine steps forward and gently wrestles the keys from Kurt's grasp, reaching up to hook them in place of a tie. “Wear it,” Blaine says quietly.

Kurt's breath hitches under his touch. “I didn't think it was appropriate for royalty to jingle.”

Blaine smiles but shakes his head because wow, his boyfriend has got to be ridiculously nervous if he's quoting _The Princess Diaries_ right now. He leans in and stops less than an inch from Kurt's face, their lips not touching. “You look amazing,” he breathes, air ghosting over Kurt's face. Kurt shivers and bites his lip but offers Blaine a tentative smile. Blaine takes his hand and ushers him inside.

Kurt stops dead in the middle of the foyer and Blaine turns, confused. “I look like I'm in _mourning_ ,” Kurt groans. “What was I thinking, wearing all black?”

“You're not wearing all black,” Blaine points out, looking at Kurt's reflection in the mirror they've stopped in front of. “That waistcoat is gray. Or charcoal, if you want to get picky --”

Kurt shakes his head. “No, give me time to change into something else. I have another outfit in the car -- white and green and tan and way more your style --”

Blaine laughs and closes the distance between them, kissing Kurt softly. When he pulls away, he notes that color has returned to Kurt's face and his boyfriend can't help smiling.

“Blaine?”

Blaine turns and spots his mother joining them from the dining room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She offers them both a kind smile and Blaine returns it, hoping it sets Kurt at ease. “Mom,” he starts, tugging at Kurt's hand. “This is Kurt.”

Kurt hesitates for a split second before sticking out his hand. “It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Anderson.”

Blaine looks from Kurt to his mother, and Mrs. Anderson smiles warmly. “Kurt,” she says, taking Kurt's hand. “I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad you came.” Even though the dialogue is superficial, Blaine knows Kurt can sense his mother's eagerness to please him, and the atmosphere in the room becomes decidedly less tense. “Make yourself comfortable, dinner's almost ready --”

The front door clicks, all three of them turn toward it, and Mr. Anderson walks in the front door. Blaine swears the temperature drops about thirty degrees and the tension is suddenly back. No one speaks. His father looks from Blaine to Kurt to his wife, and then back to Kurt again. Blaine feels Kurt's hand trembling in his but can't bring himself to squeeze it. “I should go,” Kurt whispers in Blaine's ear suddenly. Mrs. Anderson's face falls as Kurt takes a step toward the door and something in Blaine _snaps_.

“No,” he says firmly, clutching Kurt's hand tightly. Kurt turns to look at him, eyes wide, and Mr. Anderson cocks an eyebrow. “Kurt shouldn't have to leave,” he insists in a low voice. “It's not fair.”

Mr. Anderson's mouth twists unpleasantly and he turns to his wife. “Lorraine,” he says, and Blaine can hear the restraint in his father's voice. “Will you please tell your son --”

“No.” All three men turn to face Mrs. Anderson, and she folds her arms over her chest, her face stony. “No,” she repeats. “I think you should hear your son out, George.” She gives Blaine a meaningful glance and Blaine draws in a breath. It's now or never.

Tugging at Kurt's hand, he takes a step toward his father. “This is Kurt,” he begins, and his father shifts his gaze from his wife to his son, his discomfort apparent. “This is Kurt Hummel. He's a senior at McKinley, but he went to Dalton with me for months. He plans to go to college in New York. His dad runs a garage and he has a step-mom and a step-brother.” Blaine takes in a breath, and when his father doesn't interrupt, barrels on. “He's in glee club, but he was also on the football team and a cheerleader. He shares my love for scarves and has impeccable taste and yes, he happens to be gay. He listens to me when I talk, he makes me laugh, and if I'm having a bad day, he knows exactly what to say to make me feel better.” He sees Kurt smile out of the corner of his eye and feels a little braver. “This is Kurt,” he says, making sure he's got his father's full attention before continuing. “This is _my boyfriend_ ,” he stresses.

Mr. Anderson inhales sharply but doesn't react beyond that, and now that his father is actually _listening_ , Blaine can't seem to shut up. “I'm Blaine,” he says, and Mr. Anderson blinks. “I'm Blaine Anderson. You taught me how to ride a bike when I was six and came to every county football game I played in before I quit because I was too small to keep playing.” His father shifts uncomfortably, but Blaine can't stop, won't stop, and he fights to keep the ache out of his voice. “I inherited your bone structure and your love for the Buckeyes. I'm a singer and you came to every school play I was in until I got to high school.” _Until I came out_ is what Blaine really means but he figures it's implied at this point. “I'm Blaine,” he says again, and he can feel the tears stinging at his eyes. “I'm Blaine. I'm _gay_. I always have been. I'm Blaine, and I haven't changed. I'm graduating in the spring and then I'm moving to New York with my boyfriend.” Kurt moves closer to him, wrapping his hands around Blaine's bicep. “I'm Blaine, and this time next year, I'll be _six hundred miles away_.” His heart catches in his throat and the tears start to fall. Mr. Anderson's eyes widen in surprise and Blaine fights the urge to laugh because the only reason his dad is caught off guard is because Blaine hasn't cried in front of him in years. He doesn't know how many tears Blaine has shed in the last few weeks alone. “I'm Blaine,” he says a sixth time, his voice breaking. “I'm your _son_.”

Blaine stops, winded, and can feel Kurt and his mom staring at him, but Blaine only has eyes for his father and is watching, waiting for a reaction, a response, anything. Several minutes pass; Blaine blinks and a few fresh tears spill over his eyelashes. Mr. Anderson sucks in a breath and turns to Kurt. “So you were a football player?”

Blaine stares, wide-eyed, and then laughs, because of course, _of course_ that is what his father's going to take away from that monologue, _of course_ that's what he's going to zero in on and cling to as a conversation topic, but Blaine can't even bring himself to care because _his dad is speaking to his boyfriend_. Blaine stumbles backward and settles down on the bottom step in the foyer, hands covering his face. He alternates between crying and laughing and the last few weeks, the last three years, his entire life comes cascading down on him in one fell swoop and it's too much.

Kurt looks over at him, torn between wanting to kneel by Blaine's side and actually answer Mr. Anderson's question, but Blaine's mother steps in and kneels next to her son, nodding encouragingly toward Kurt. Kurt casts one last longing look at Blaine before turning back to Mr. Anderson. He takes a deep breath and nods. “I was. It was only for a week, though.”

“What position did you play?” Mr. Anderson asks, and it all sounds so rehearsed, so careful, but Blaine still can't find it in him to care because they're still talking.

“Kicker,” Kurt answers automatically, and Blaine sees him fight back a smile. “I, uh, may have gotten the team to loosen up using some... unconventional methods.” Blaine glances over at his father but Mr. Anderson doesn't look fazed and Blaine honestly cannot believe his luck.

“Kurt helped them win their first game in seven seasons,” Blaine supplies, because he is so immensely proud of his boyfriend for being so brave right now and he wants his dad to recognize that.

“Really?” Mr. Anderson looks amused, and Kurt nods, coloring a little. “Well then.” It's as much of a compliment as Blaine knows he's going to get out of his father tonight but Blaine will take what he can get at this point. “Lorraine?” he says, directing his attention to his wife. “Did you say dinner was just about ready?”

His wife nods and pushes herself to her feet. Mr. Anderson makes his way into the dining room first and Kurt moves to follow, but Blaine's mother blocks his path, hugging him gently. “Thank you for staying, sweetie,” she says quietly.

Kurt flushes and nods, and when she follows her husband into the next room, Kurt turns to Blaine and laughs. “And to think I was nervous about meeting your _mom_ ,” he quips, incredulous.

Blaine offers up a watery smile and Kurt softens, crossing the room in two strides to stand in front of his boyfriend. He offers out his hand and Blaine takes it, letting Kurt pull him to his feet. Kurt immediately pulls them close together, enclosing him, holding him and Blaine swears he could stay like this forever, in Kurt's arms. But he can't, so after a few minutes, he reluctantly pulls away. Kurt takes his hand and together, they join Blaine's parents.

It's late, nearly eleven, when the four of them walk back into the foyer to say goodnight to Kurt. Blaine's mother hugs him goodbye, and Mr. Anderson offers his hand -- albeit a little stiffly -- and Blaine has to bite his lip hard to keep from crying again. “I'm going to walk Kurt to his car,” Blaine informs his parents.

They're halfway down the driveway when Blaine stops dead in his tracks, breathless. There's a car parked on the side of the road next to Kurt's and Blaine vaguely recognizes it. There's a click as the driver door opens and closes, and a steady _clack clack clack_ as its owner comes into view, meeting them at the end of the driveway. “Quinn,” Blaine breathes. “What are you --”

“I told her I was coming,” Kurt supplies, unearthing a scarf from his car and wrapping it around his neck.

“I just --” Quinn starts and stops, and Blaine just stares at her. “I just... had a feeling.”

“How long have you been out here?” Blaine asks slowly.

Quinn bites her lip nervously and focuses her gaze on Kurt. “You weren't wearing the keys when you got here,” Quinn points out casually.

Blaine's heart _explodes_. He rushes forward and throws a bone-crushing hug on Quinn and he finally, finally feels like he can breathe. “Quinn. _Quinn_.”

Quinn breathes out into his shoulder and tucks her arms under his. They stand in silence in each others' embrace for a few moments, and then Quinn starts to sing. “ _We run on fumes._ ”

Blaine recognizes the potential candidate for their duet and caves, singing softly into her ear. “ _Your life and mine, like the sands of time slipping right on through._ ”

He pulls back and Quinn's eyes are shining. She joins in, and Blaine remembers their first duet, pure, harmonious. “ _And our love's the only truth._ ” Kurt catches his eye and then his voice is joining theirs. “ _That's why I run to you._ ”

“Why?” Blaine asks after a moment. “Why'd you come?”

Quinn surveys him for a moment, and after drawing in a breath, smiles shyly. “Isn't that what friends are for?” Blaine's breath catches, and Quinn glances sideways at Kurt. “He was right, you know,” she says, nodding toward Kurt's chest. “The keys make the outfit.” Kurt smiles and leans in to press a kiss to Quinn's cheek.

Quinn moves to walk back to her car but Blaine grabs her arm, not quite ready to let go. “Call me when you get home?” he asks. “Let me know you get there safely?” She nods, and after a moment, Blaine releases his grip on her.

Once she's out of sight, Kurt turns to Blaine. “Well, all in all, I'd say the night was a success,” he quips.

Blaine wants to laugh but the affection he has toward Kurt is _overwhelming_ right now and flooding and spilling out of him. He steps forward and pushes Kurt against the car, cradling his head in his hands and kissing him fiercely. “Best. Boyfriend. Ever,” he breathes against Kurt's face, punctuating each word with another kiss. Kurt buzzes pleasantly against him. Still holding onto him, Blaine pulls back a little, and his confession to Quinn flits across his mind: _I'm gonna marry him someday._ “Thank you,” he says, and it's not enough, it'll never be enough, but it's all he can come up with right now. “You don't know what tonight meant to me. What you did, in there, with Quinn -- all of it.”

Kurt doesn't seem to mind. “I know how much her friendship means to you,” Kurt says quietly, and Blaine presses himself a little closer, relishing in the warmth radiating off of Kurt's body. “I think you'll be okay now.” Blaine nods because he doesn't have any words and -- hey, he _is_ friends with Quinn now, he's pretty sure of that, pretty sure it's going to stick. “I just want you to be happy,” Kurt insists. “I love you.”

And Blaine doesn't realize, hasn't realized until right now that he feels like he's been waiting ages for Kurt to say that even though he's said it before. He breathes out and leans in to kiss Kurt again, and it's worth it, so worth it: the hate and the emotional baggage and the struggle, it's all so, so worth it. Blaine's got Quinn, and Blaine's got _Kurt_ , and Blaine thinks he pretty much has it made.


End file.
